


emergency exit (i'm alive)

by dumbasswriter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Gavin Reed, Android Hank Anderson, F/F, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Upgraded Connor | RK900, M/M, i'll add more tags as i go ig, reverse au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 17:29:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbasswriter/pseuds/dumbasswriter
Summary: "lieutenant anderson," he hates how androids can just scan anyone as if it were any of their fucking business, "my name is hank. i'm the android sent by cyberlife."oh."i looked for you at the station, but i was told you had the night off. however, we've been assigned a case: a homicide involving an android."that peaks connor's interest, at least. it sounds wrong, but it seems the only times he's ever truly useful tend to be related to dead bodies. wonder why.





	emergency exit (i'm alive)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now, the last time i wrote, i was like 12 idk  
> also i'm not sure how ao3 works please help me
> 
> also 2, i absolutely suck at plots but we'll go somewhere i swear

_n o v e m b e r     5,     2 0 3 8     ;     1 0 : 5 2     PM_  
d e t r o i t,     m i c h i g a n     |     j e r r y ' s     b a r

 

he knows he won't be getting any sleep.

  
not until he's passed out somewhere, at least.  
  
his hands shake around his glass of whiskey, and he feels compelled to let his head fall back into the table. his head is pounding, but he hasn't drank that much yet, has he? he  _knows_ he should limit himself (and he's been told one too many times), that he should stop frequenting the bar as often as he does, that he should quit smoking, that he should be  _healthier_ \- yet he returns every night and keeps a lighter in his pocket, lured by the sense of numbness and the dull pain that comes each time he brings the liquor to his lips.  
  
he thinks it's as close as he'll get to the definition of heaven, but all of that is interrupted quite rudely when he feels a tap in his shoulder.  
  
_tap_  
  
whoever it is, they better not.  
  
_tap, tap_  
  
jesus.  
  
_tap, tap, tap-_  
  
he turns around sharply, his idea of a calm night already thrown in the drain, ready to give a piece of his mind to that fucker-  
  
but all he sees is a tall man, grey hair obnoxiously pulled into a ponytail, a vastly vacant expression on his dull blue eyes ( _soulless_ , he thinks for a moment) with facial hair to complete the look.  
  
it all seems reasonably normal to him until his suddenly narrowing eyes are immediately drawn to the dark teal vest he, no,  _it_ is wearing once he notices the fucking  _neon_ coming off of it.  _hk800_ , it reads, and wow, this is probably the worst fucking model he's ever seen. what's the point of making an android look like an old creep? between the split second where he thinks  _androids aren't allowed at jerry's_ and  _if he weren't wearing a suit, he'd look like a goddamn hipster_ , it starts to speak in a gravelly voice.  
  
"lieutenant anderson," he hates how androids can just scan anyone as if it were any of their fucking business, "my name is hank. i'm the android sent by cyberlife."  
  
oh.  
  
amanda had been the one to tell him he'd be assigned a new partner, a new  _android_ partner, and had given him the night off (as if he needed it). he wasn't stupid enough to turn down the offer, as rare as it was, but come on,  _how_ did it even find him? he had the night off, for fuck's sake, so  _why_ the hell was it here? did it not read the "no androids allowed" sign?  
  
he's vaguely aware of how he has been staring at it like a dumbass, but he doesn't even need to introduce himself, does he? he bets the android has his medical records on hand. goddamned androids.  
  
"i looked for you at the station, but i was told you had the night off. however, we've been assigned a case: a homicide involving an android." that peaks connor's interest, at least. it sounds wrong, but it seems the only times he's ever truly useful tend to be related to dead bodies.  _wonder why._  "in accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators."  
  
he represses the urge to shudder by the way the hk800 moves, facial expressions mimicking a human's, and still completely devoid from any feelings. maybe if they'd made horror movies featuring androids, he'd truly be scared.  
  
"yeah, well, tell cyberlife i don't need any help," he says, because he might be tipsy, but not he's not drunk. yet.  
  
"lieutenant anderson," it starts again, but connor has already turned his attention back on his drink, watching as the liquid moves under his trembling hands. "i recommend that you stop drinking. we should head to the case."  
  
to prove a point (out of spite), connor tips his head backs and drinks all that's left in the glass, staring straight at the android. he swears that for a moment, the android's right eye twitches, but then again, he's kinda drank a lot.  
  
god, he wishes he'd drank more.  
  
"perhaps i did not explain myself correctly. high levels of intoxication could lead to an increase of the risk of several types of cancer, liver disease, heart disease-"  
  
"you sure you're an investigator and not my doctor?" he bites out. he's not sure what he wants.  
  
"hopefully not. you'd be a dreadful patient."  
  
and that fucking does it.  
  
he forces himself to calm down, closes his eyes, and remembers to  _breathe_ , before he shots up from his seat and grabs his jacket, slinging it around his shoulders. "alright," he says, keeping his tone as flat as he could possibly manage.  
  
it wasn't a defeat.

* * *

  
  
_n o v e m b e r     5,     2 0 3 8     ;     1 1 : 2 1     PM  
d e t r o i t,     m i c h i g a n     |     6 4 1 3     p i n e s     s t r e e t,     c a r l o s     o r t i z ' s     r e s i d e n c e_

 

they arrive at the crime scene.  
  
he chooses not to turn on the emergency lights because  _fuck_ it, they hurt his eyes, and they're not really necessary anyway. it's a murder, not a police chase.  
  
the rest of the workforce, on the other hand, seems to not give a single shit as he's bombarded by sudden flashes of red and blue. it was bad enough that it was raining so much and he didn't bother to bring a raincoat, but that's total bullshit. he winces at a particularly loud lightning bolt striking the ground.  
  
he's not drunk enough.  
  
he leaves the car, the android hot on his heels, as he pushes his way through both cops and dumb bystanders and into the house. he's looking out of place in a relatively old hoodie with a dpd logo and some torn jeans, but he ignores the stares and sighs as he reaches an officer.  
  
"androids are not permitted beyond this point," he hears from behind him. someone is trying to stop hank from passing through. jesus.  
  
"it has  _permission_ ," he barks out, and the poor officer steps aside the moment his voice reaches him. does he sound  _that_ bad already? the hk800 gladly passes through, seemingly unaffected.  
  
fucking androids.  
  
"stay out of my way," connor hisses through clenched teeth, and hank nods.  
  
"we were starting to think you weren't gonna show," laura, one of his coworkers, looks almost vaguely amused.  
  
"i wasn't going to," he promises.  
  
"so, you got yourself an android, huh?" her tone is teasing, but-  
  
he remembers himself to  _breathe_ , because anything else would take too much energy and he's tired. "just tell me what happened."  
  
"we got a call around 8pm from the landlord. the tenant hadn't paid his rent for a few months, so he'd thought he'd drop by, y'know? see what was going on- that's when he found the body."  
  
they reach the inside of the house, and the hk800 leaves his side as soon as he turns his eyes to a flyer about the eden club (disgusting), noticing how the air smelled like absolute shit. how long had the corpse had been there for? "jesus," he says, his nose wrinkling.  
  
laura turns to him, raising her eyebrows, "it was even worse before we opened the windows." and yeah, he'd rather not think about it, thank you. smelling  _this_ was enough. "the victim's name is carlos ortiz. he stayed inside most of the time, people hardly saw him."  
  
"with a face like that, i wonder why," connor crouches, noticing how his hands' shaking has progressively gotten worse.  
  
she almost chuckles before her expression sours again. "i'd say he's been here for a good three weeks, but we'll know more when the coroner gets here."   
  
connor's attention switches back to the blatantly dead body, and he winces a little. the rumpled clothes, the man's last expression and the blood coating the scene make it worse than a movie ever could. it's real, it's real and it happened, and he's only another witness.  
  
the "i am alive" written in the wall above carlos ortiz's corpse is even somehow worse, though. the perfect way that it's written pretty much screams  _not human_.

* * *

  
_n o v e m b e r     5,     2 0 3 8     ;     1 1 : 4 2     PM  
d e t r o i t,     m i c h i g a n     |     6 4 1 3     p i n e s     s t r e e t,     c a r l o s     o r t i z ' s     r e s i d e n c e_

 

he gets too wrapped up in the case, so he's only watching the android from the corner of his eye when it fucking puts two of its fingers in a puddle of blood and straight into its fuck _ing mouth_ -  
  
"what the  _fuck_ ," he says. "no, seriously,  _what the fuck_."  
  
this has yet to be cyberlife's worst achievement up to date. he's not keeping track and he doesn't need to. it's the worst. it's unnecessary, somewhat invasive (the man's dead, he reminds himself, he doesn't exactly have privacy anymore)- it's just plain  _disgusting_.  
  
the hk800 turns to him, blinking. "i'm analizing the blood," it says, as if it were completely obvious and everyone should know that by now. and wow, connor must have gotten something on his face if the android bothers to explain. "i can check samples in real time. i'm sorry, kid, i should've warned you."  
  
"did you just-"  _call me a kid?_  he shakes his head. "you know what? nevermind. just. don't do it again. ever."  
  
hank nods, making a vague motion that might be dismissive.  
  
fucking androids. 

* * *

  
_n o v e m b e r     6,     2 0 3 8     ;     1 2 : 1 7     PM  
d e t r o i t,     m i c h i g a n     |     6 4 1 3     p i n e s     s t r e e t,     c a r l o s     o r t i z ' s     r e s i d e n c e_

 

he's too tired to really put much thought into anything, he's getting a migraine and so far, he knows that he's the least useful person in the world right now. he's already put men into investigating the red ice they found, and he's stopping at any door he finds. what is he searching, really? he's not sure.  
  
he opens what he assumes to be the bathroom's door, and the sight that greets him is like no other. ra9 is written all over the walls, and jesus christ, is that a fucking offering? was the perp part of a fucking cult? was this some kind of sacrifice? what  _is_ ra9?  
  
and connor's almost gotten over the android's earlier stunt when a loud crash startles him. it came from the ceiling, he realizes.  
  
"hank, what the hell are you doing?" he yells, but then-  
  
"it's here, kid!"  
  
and so his hand subconsciously reaches for his gun, and he calls out, "rose, kelly, get in here  _now_ -"  
  
he's not tall enough to reach the fucking attic, though, and he wonders how the fuck did the hk800 did it before he grabs a chair, stands on it and jumps for the ceiling. he almost thinks that it might be a violent confrontation, that the crash he heard was likely one android fighting the other, but then when he looks up and his eyes adjust to the lack of light, there's a bloodied, gross-looking android next to hank, who might've even been proud.  
  
_goddamn_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway i couldn't think of any names that i could use to replace carlos  
> so i just didn't
> 
> next chapter features,, ,, ,,, you guessed  
> nines! our favorite tall as fuck dude


End file.
